


The one with a one-night stand.

by ThePlacesYoullGo



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Hollstein - Freeform, One Night Stand, The one where a one night stand turns awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:38:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlacesYoullGo/pseuds/ThePlacesYoullGo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An idea hits you and you grab your phone. After you’ve unlocked it, you pull up that app that - according to your brother - is ‘all the rage’. </p><p>Tinder.</p><p>You smirk at the number of messages you’ve got since last time you checked the phone but you can’t bother yourself with reading any of them. </p><p>You want someone fresh.</p><p>Left. Left.</p><p>Something quick. </p><p>Left. </p><p>Someone… Cute.</p><p>And this girl seems to fit the bill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Its days like these that make you consider a career as a serial killer.  
  
Of course, your logical side reasons with you that there is no money in that job field.  
  
But it doesn’t hurt to dream.  
  
After that thought, you slam the door to your apartment with such a violent force that you’re almost positive a neighbor will call 911 for domestic abuse, a gunshot, or a robbery. Or some shit like that. You’ve never cared.  
  
You fling your keys and phone on your couch, soon following them as you collapse on the cushions. Today sucked. Which you would argue is actually the understatement of the year. First, you were thirty minutes late to work - which is actually early for you - but your boss saw you come in for once and yelled at you in his office. Then, you got a speeding ticket while on your motorcycle, which means you’ll be expecting a phone call next week from your mother who just happens to know every cop in this God-forsaken town about how you’re ‘ruining the family name’. Finally, you forgot to bring money to buy the books for school – which starts tomorrow morning, not like you’ve been dreading this all summer- and had to call your brother, who will never let you forget that you now owe him a favor.  
  
After dealing with that last embarrassing fiasco, you need something to make this day end on a brighter note that somehow doesn’t involve packing up and getting on the next bus out of here.  
  
An idea hits you and you grab your phone. After you’ve unlocked it, you pull up that app that - according to your brother - is ‘all the rage’.  
  
Tinder.  
  
You smirk at the number of messages you’ve got since last time you checked the phone but you can’t bother yourself with reading any of them.  
  
You want someone fresh.  
  
Left. Left.  
  
Something quick.  
  
Left.  
  
Someone… Cute.  
  
And this girl seems to fit the bill.  
  
A woman with long blonde hair and brown eyes wearing a cupcake shirt. She’s got a toothy smile that you can’t help but admire and makes you wonder what made her laugh. Hey, you have a soft side too. Her picture looks like it was candidly taken – which you applaud her for choosing a good image unlike the other women on this app – but it also signals one prominent trait.  
  
Innocence.  
  
You swipe right on her before continuing your own personal Judgement Day on the other users. It takes a few swipes to the left before a message pops up from the girl from before. You make a mental note of her name but then realize you could care less and open the message.  
  
“Hello!!”  
  
You can’t decide if you are impressed that she’s brave enough to initiate the chat so quickly or annoyed at her enthusiasm and overuse of punctuation, but you decide to play nice and reply back.  
  
“Hey there Cupcake.”  
  
“What’s up?  
Sorry. That sounds lame. =\  
How are you?  
Nope, let me try again. =[  
Hows it hangin?”  
  
You decide amusement is the emotion you’re looking for as you read her messages. After you see she’s done typing, for the time being anyway, you smile. Innocent is the perfect word to describe her.  
  
“Let me guess. Your first time using Tinder?”  
  
“That obvious? D:”  
  
“Definitely. Drinks, tonight at 9 at Bloody Marys. See you there.”  
  
“Oh, okay!! I’ll see you then!”  
  
That was easy. After plugging your phone in to charge, you decide to take a shower. After all, you gotta look your best tonight if you want to seal the deal.

You’re late, of course. About ten minutes late, if you bothered to check your phone. She’s sitting at the bar, playing with the little umbrella that came with her drink, when you walk in. You watch her check her phone before taking a sip of the lime green beverage. It’s that moment when you realize you have control of this situation and head over to her to get the night started.  
  
She looks up at you when you take the seat next to her. The bartender slides a scotch your way and winks before walking to another bar goer.  
  
Sometimes it pays to be a regular.  
  
The drink is gone almost as fast as it was poured and you push the glass forward as you turn towards your potential hookup. She’s staring at you with wide, brown eyes and you realize you’re actually sitting higher than her. Are you taller than her? You try to remember how old she was on her profile but it’s too late now and you just decide to go with the flow and play things out. After all, she has to be at least 21 if she’s sitting at the bar.  
  
You get your first good look at her and realize that she is actually gorgeous. In a cute way, of course. Her hair isn’t exactly blonde but it’s not brown either and if you had to compare it to just one color, you’d pick hazelnut.  
  
And your mother said your art degree would be useless.  
  
You grab the freshly refilled drink that the bartender just left you and drink that one just as fast as the first. This time, you catch yourself scrunching your face up from the burn of the alcohol.  
  
“You know, there are better tasting ways to get drunk.”  
  
“I’d rather have a drink that gets me there quick.”  
  
The woman smiles and nods towards her own drink “Slow and steady does win the race though. I’m Laura.”  
  
“Carmilla.” You reply, sliding your empty glass away from the two of you. You watch her fiddle with the umbrella again. She’s nervous. She must not be used to the world of online hookups. It’s almost painful how innocent she is. You know you’re going to love shattering that innocence.  
  
“Listen. We both know what Tinder is used for.” You watch her carefully, wondering if she’ll back out like the last girl did. She takes a breath and looks to you and suddenly it seems like a whole new person is sitting there. She reaches towards you - catching you by surprise - and brushes some of your dark hair back behind your ear. You find yourself shivering slightly at her touch – something that you can’t recall that you’ve ever done. “So, what do you say we pay our tabs and head to my place?” Her hand slides down your arm, resting on your forearm.  
  
Okay. Maybe not so innocent.  
  
The sudden burst of confidence throws you off guard. You blink a few times before collecting yourself. Two can play this game.  
  
“That’s the plan, Creampuff,” You lean towards her with lidded eyes, opening your mouth just a bit to take a breath. She closes her eyes for a kiss but you brush past her cheek. “Leave my friend here a good tip and I’ll make it worth your while.” You say as you pull a twenty from your back pocket and place it on the bar. You pull back and mentally celebrate as she flushes red, stammering to herself. You turn towards the door and walk out, not bothering to look behind you.  
  
  
\\\\\\\\\  
  
  
She unlocks the door and you find yourself slamming an apartment door for the second time that night. This time though, it’s not out of frustration.  
  
Well, sexual frustration maybe.  
  
You drop your keys and reach for her, clumsily grabbing her shoulders. She grips the collar of your leather jacket as you kiss her, pulling you towards her but pushing you back against the door.  
  
It’s clumsy at first, since it seems that both of you want to take charge. You can’t tell if this is her normal behavior because every now and then she slips into a more submissive role before remembering what she’s doing.  
  
Your hands start to roam as the kissing intensifies. You feel her press against you harder, slipping a thigh between your legs and break the kiss off, only to hear a rough “Bedroom” come from her before she finds your lips again.  
  
You’ve never needed anyone to repeat that before.  
She leads you to the room while you both stay connected on the mouth. You’re pulling her jacket off and she’s pulling yours off. Mutual disrobing, if you will.  
  
Something catches you behind your knees and the two of you fall back on something soft – her bed it seems – and she straddles you. And while your emotions have been building the past five minutes, she pauses. Its several moments before you realize that the confidence is actually just an act, and that you’ll have to take charge of the situation. You reach up and pull her down towards you, rolling over each other so you’re straddling her now.  
  
She’s surprised but you can see the hint of relief in her face as you lock lips with her one more, exploring each other again. She’s keeping up with you and doesn’t seem labored – always a good sign – and you hope she lasts longer than your previous one-night stand, Elise or something.  
  
Only one way to find out.  
  
You pull away and look her in the eyes, waiting for a sign. She nods and now all you can think about are the ways she’ll scream your name tonight. Without any more hesitation, you start kissing anywhere but her mouth, eager to get the night started.  
  
But the last thought to leave your mind is to make a mental note to truly thank your brother for introducing you to this app. You love reaping the benefits but this one has potential to be the best.  
  
  
\\\\\\\\\\\  
  
  
It was the best you’ve had. Hands down.  
  
You left last night after you both finished – several times, you add - unable to wipe the smile off your face. You find yourself contemplating keeping her on speed dial. Even if all you know about her is that her name is Lauren or something and that she seems kind of nerdy.  
  
It’s past one in the morning when you get back to your apartment. And while being an adult and hooking up with a stranger was fun, you do need sleep. Especially since you begin your senior year in the morning.  
  
You decide to go to bed, falling on your mattress as soon as you enter your own bedroom. Her toothy smile is the last thing you think about before you pass out.  
  
Nine hours later, you decide to get out of bed and go to your first class of the semester. One that you aren’t too excited for since it’s just a filler course. It takes about twenty minutes for you to actually get dressed, even though almost all you own is ripped jeans, boots, tank tops, and flannel. Not much variety.  
  
No surprise here, but you show up late to class. It’s in a lecture hall, so you can slip in the back door and grab a seat in the bac– Crap. There are no seats in the back row. There seems to be no seats anywhere, actually. People are starting to look up at you, watching with amusement where you’ll sit when you spot a seat in the front of the classroom. You debate on pushing one of the underclassmen out of your ideal seat when a voice stills you. A voice you’ve heard recently and never thought you’d hear in a school setting.  
  
“Let’s hope being late isn’t a habit of yours, Ms. Karnstein. Please take a seat so we can get started.”  
  
It’s Creampuff.  
  
No. That’s not right. You look down at your schedule.  
  
Professor Laura Hollis – Intro to Virtual Journalism and Media – Room 136  
  
It’s then that you realize that you just had a one night stand with your professor.


	2. Chapter 2

11:15 AM

Your eyes keep straying to the clock you’ve got on your desk. You can’t help it. You don’t mean to watch the numbers tick higher and higher but at the same time it’s not like you put the clock face down.

11:16 AM

Three more minutes. It’s inevitable. You know what will happen. The time will hit that painful number and just for a minute your heart will hurt. 

11:17 AM

Two minutes left.

Maybe if you go brush your teeth, you’ll miss the time. You’ll be so busy with your dental hygiene – your father would approve of your use of spare time – that you would just not look at the clock. But you know you can’t do that.

Your eyes are rooted to the same spot.

11:18 AM

You can feel the memories bubble on the surface. Memories of happier times. Memories of happier people. Memories of happie-

11:19 AM

It hits you like a wave suddenly. The random coffee date. The weird look she had on her face. The way she didn’t sit still. The way that stray hair never tucked behind her ear.

The way she broke up with you.

You feel the tears start to gather in your eyes and you roughly wipe them away.

You knew it was going to happen. You’ve known. Well, more like you’ve had a feeling. The past few months were out of place. 

She wouldn’t touch you certain ways. She talked a bit differently. Acted a bit funny. You noticed your time together was slowly decreasing. The pictures of you two less frequent.

It, honestly, is for the best.

But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt. 

\\\\\\\\\

You find yourself laying face first on your pillow. The thought of becoming a nomad is starting to appeal to you when your phone buzzes next to your hip. You ignore it. It’s probably your father, reminding you to lock your doors, windows, and anything else in your apartment. 

It buzzes again and then again. Three texts. 

There is that small sliver of hope that it’s her. That she realizes that you two could have worked it out. Couples therapy works, right?

The beacon of hope is turned on and you slide your hand down the sheets to grab it. After blinking a few times, you read the texts.

All from your friend LaFontaine.

None from _her_.

You open their texts and read what they say.

“Hey, are you home right now?”  
“Perry says hi, btw.  
“And she wants to know if you want soup?”

You feel like putting your phone back on the bed when it buzzes again.

“I know you read this, Laura. Your Read-Receipts are on.”

 

With a grumble worthy of Oscar the Grouch, you roll over and start typing but you’re interrupted by them calling you.

“I’m home. But no soup please. I just want a quiet night.”

“You need to get out of your apartment. Go to the park. A museum. A zoo! It doesn’t matter. Get your mind off her.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Laura Hollis, so help me, I will drag you out of your apartment and kic- HEY GIVE THAT BACK!”

“Sorry, Laf is being a bit rude. This is Perry. I took their phone. Laura, you need to go experience something new to get your mind off her.”

“Everything reminds me of her.” You wonder how you had the strength to say that, even though it came out as a whisper.

“Then go do something that she’d never do. Forge new memories.”

\\\\\\\\\

And, oddly enough, that’s how you ended up at the bar.

Well, not directly. 

 

After thanking the two of you friends for advice, regardless of quality, you thought about what Perry said.

It made sense. It really did. 

Do something she’d never do.

Forge new memories.

You downloaded the first dating app you saw – Tinder – and found a woman who might be the exact opposite of _her_.

Short. Dark hair. Pale. 

And that _smirk_. 

After revealing how awkward you are on the internet, she set a date for later that night at a local bar, Bloody Mary’s.

You arrived ten minutes early.

She arrived ten minutes late.

You had decided that tonight, you were going to be the confident on in the relationship. Or the one night stand. Whichever. You want to be the one who takes charge. Who decides what to and how fast. And hopefully, you don’t falter halfway through.

You were checking your phone when she arrived, clad in almost all leather and holding a motorcycle helmet. 

It was then when you realized you had to make a prayer to anyone who hear you for the discovery of that leather and motorcycles. 

She drinks her scotch fast as you think of ways to start the conversation. You catch her studying you before the bartender refills her drink, inspiring you with something to say. 

“You know, there are better tasting ways to get drunk.” You mentally high five yourself for starting the conversation.

“I’d rather have a drink that gets me there quick.”

You smile and nod towards your drink, a Sour Green Melon. “Slow and steady does win the race though.” You pause to take a large sip before introducing yourself. “I’m Laura.”

“Carmilla.” 

Well, crap. Now you’re stuck at an impasse. What do you say after introductions? Does she want to eat here? Is she even hungry? Or does she just want to hook up? Which, that was your plan anyway. You need someone to take your mind off of _her_. 

“Listen. We both know what Tinder is used for.” You begin, spinning that cute umbrella in your drink. It takes all your courage and maybe a little liquid courage, but you take a breath and look up at her. Acting on the forced-adrenaline, you reach out towards her and push a few strands of her hair behind her ear. “So, what do you saw we pay our tabs and head to my place?” You slide your hand down her arm, resting it on her forearm.

Boom! Look at you! Lafontaine would be so proud right now! You can see she’s shocked by your movements and it takes a second for her to regain her composure. Her eyes darken and that’s when you realize she isn’t hungry.

Well. Not hungry for food anyway.

“That’s the plan, Creampuff.” She starts to close the distance between you two, closing her eyes as she opens her mouth.

A kiss? You were hoping for something a bit more private but you’ll comply. After you close your eyes, you wait for the soft touch of lips but instead feel a ghost of a whisper on your cheek.

“Leave my friend here a good tip and I’ll make it worth your while.” She bites your earlobe on the word ‘quickly’ and pulls back into view, smirking.

When you find your muscles working again, you pull a twenty from your own pocket and almost run after her out the door. 

\\\\\\\

You get home faster than you’ve ever gotten home before, leading an all-black motorcycle to your apartment complex. 

After you unlock the door and step inside, she shuts it and her lips find yours. She’s intoxicating. She smells like leather and metal and you can’t get enough. She grabs your shoulders and you grab her jacket, pushing her against the door. 

You want to act like you have confidence and power so you make the first move and press your thigh against her. You try to whisper the words ‘bedroom’ to her in a sexy tone but it comes out rough. Thankfully, the message seems to be understood and the next thing you know, you’re straddling her on your bed.

What do you do now? You’ve never done this before. _She_ always took charge. 

And it seems Carmilla gets the hint. The woman pulls you close for a kiss before trading positions, straddling you now. You tug at her shirt, she tugs at your pants, breaking the kiss and looking at your face. You know what she wants. 

What you want. 

So, you nod and the last thing you see before your screwing your eyes shut in pleasure is that smirk. 

\\\\\\\\\

She left sometime around one, not that you were really coherent. She ravaged you, multiple times in fact. She paid more attention to you and gave you more than _she_ ever did. 

You’re exhausted and ready to pass out. Work starts in eight hours and after tonight, you’ll need as much sleep as you can. Before you fully fall asleep, you catch yourself thinking about Carmilla. The softness of her skin, the way her eyes lit up several times throughout the night. Her smile. A true smile. She left your place with such a big smile that you wonder if she had someone to forget about, like you did.

And you hope you helped.

When you wake up and get ready for the day, you appreciate the fact that you slept peacefully for the first time since the breakup. You find yourself going through your usual routine and it’s only when you’re driving to work that you realize you didn’t think about your ex at all. 

Maybe Carmilla would be interested in another night? You only hope that last night was as enjoyable for her as it was for you. You make a mental note to send another message to the woman as you walk into your class, smiling at the students.

Ten minutes later, class has started and you’re still setting up your PowerPoint. It’s only the first day of classes anyway, so the kids aren’t paying attention to you. You plug your computer into the projector when the door to your class creaks open and a girl steps inside wearing red flannel and ripped jeans.

You groan as you look back down at your computer. Another hipster. The class seems to notice the newcomer but you ignore it in favor of getting your PowerPoint Syllabus to work. You look back up to watch the girl scan the room for a seat when your heart skips a beat.

It’s Carmilla.

She doesn’t realize you’re the professor, so surprise is on your side. While you lacked that power, that confidence last night after she flipped you on your bed, you know you have it in this room.

Knowledge is power, they say.

You clear your throat silently and speak loudly so she can hear you.

“Let’s hope being late isn’t a habit of yours, Ms. Karnstein. Please take a seat so we can get started.”

Her head whips around so fast that you have to hold back a laugh. She’s looking down at a piece of paper and back up at you with a stunned expression.

And that’s when you realize that this semester is going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura's perspective.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the AU: 
> 
> • “I had a one night stand the night before I started a college class and WHOOPS I ACCIDENTALLY BANGED THE PROFESSOR”


End file.
